


Ever (at your side)

by fickleminder



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Clones, Dubious Science, Hive Mind, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mystery, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickleminder/pseuds/fickleminder
Summary: Prompto disappears every few months for a mission so classified that not even the chosen king of a world in darkness knows what it’s about. Noctis isn’t too worried though; he trusts Prompto, and Prompto never fails to return home to him. He doesn’t always come back the same, but at least he’s alive and well, right?(Loosely inspired by the short filmInseparable.)





	Ever (at your side)

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of nowhere and I wrote this in like a day so please pardon any inaccuracies.

Prompto can’t breathe.

He’s panting heavily and gulping air like a fish out of water, but it’s not enough. His lungs are burning, desperate for oxygen, and he gasps wetly as blood bubbles up his throat. One arm hangs limply by his side, shredded and useless, courtesy of the daemons lurking beyond the compound.

Sprawling over the console, he scrabbles at buttons and dials, keying in codes with shaky fingers and activating the empty tank propped up against the wall. His knees give way once everything is ready and he all but crawls his way inside, leaving a visible trail in the short distance between. It takes a while as he fumbles at the interior controls, smearing red all over the touchpad, but the doors hiss shut and he sighs in relief.

Finally, he can rest.

* * *

“About time. Get in here, you.”

Prompto falls into Noctis’ arms with a laugh, allowing himself to be pulled inside the apartment and smothered with kisses. Noctis doesn’t seem to care that he’s covered in dirt and whatnot; he’ll probably use it as an excuse to bathe together later. Not that he needs one, really.

“Did everything go okay?” He zeroes in on the treated wounds on Prompto’s arm and the faded bloodstains in his uniform. “What happened?”

“Got ambushed by daemons outside one of the facilities, but we took care of them.” Prompto laces their fingers together and drags him towards their tiny kitchen. “Do we have anything to eat? I’m starving!”

“Iggy stopped by earlier with food. I’ll go heat it up for you.”

“Aww, thanks buddy!”

Noctis catches sight of a small tear in Prompto’s wristband when he steps away to wash his hands. He recognizes it in an instant; worn and weathered, it’s one of Prompto’s favorites, a gift from Noctis during their first anniversary. His heart swells at the thought of Prompto bringing a piece of them along with him on his missions, and he can’t help but grab the blond’s hips and spin him around for another bruising kiss.

He gets hand soap in his hair for his efforts, but it’s totally worth it.

* * *

The first time Prompto disappears, he’s gone for a month.

When he comes back, Noctis doesn’t let him out of his sight for a week.

Aranea had gotten in touch with him, Prompto explains, curled up in bed with a Noctis-shaped growth attached to his side. There were reports of activity in the old Magitek facilities and she needed help with the investigation. Asking for him was practically a given.

“But you were sick,” Noctis argues weakly, the protest half lost in the mess of Prompto’s hair. “Why didn’t you bring us along?”

“You guys have too much on your plates already, keeping things up and running here. And like it or not, you’re the king now, Noct. People need you —“

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

_Because you would have tried to stop me_, they both know. Prompto’s health has been failing him lately; no amount of care under Ignis and Gladio’s watchful eyes have seen any improvement. To have Prompto return not good as new per se, but considerably less frail than when he had vanished without a trace, is the only thing keeping Noctis from hunting the Commodore down and giving her a piece of his mind.

“We — I came back, didn’t I?” Prompto murmurs, brushing lips over Noctis’ collarbone. He’s trembling, they both are, clinging to each other. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll always come home to you, I promise.”

Noctis stifles a sob and squeezes him tighter.

* * *

Prompto fingers his wristband idly, tracing the seam hastily mended on the road, pressing against where the barcode is inked underneath. On the bed next to him, Noctis snores peacefully away.

He doesn’t take it off anymore, even though the truth of his origins is no longer a secret to those who matter. They know where his loyalties lie, but still they let him keep it for whatever security and peace of mind it provides. In fact, they even take turns to gift him new wristbands when his current ones start to fray.

Turning to face Noctis, Prompto shuffles closer to throw an arm around his bare waist before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

“How many times has it been now?”

Prompto goes still. Straightening up, he wipes the sweat from his brow and shrugs. “We’ve lost count.”

Aranea frowns. The answer is in the console logs, but she had hoped to hear it from him. “The next supply run will be in four months. After that, things are going to get tight.”

“We’ll manage.”

“Will you?” Her voice hardens in warning. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”

Prompto gives a non-committal hum, adjusts his grip on the shovel, and continues scooping dirt into a hole in the ground.

* * *

There’s a new scar on Prompto’s forearm, earned from protecting his king during an iron giant’s sweeping attack. It rests just below his elbow and stretches nearly all the way across; Noctis traces it first with his fingers and then his lips, committing it to memory with a soft hum.

He knows every inch of Prompto’s body and vice versa, but it feels like a game of rediscovery every time they get intimate. Noctis makes up fresh constellations from the same clusters of freckles, recounts the stories behind old scars, and never gets tired of learning new ways to make his partner squirm and writhe under his touch. Prompto is receptive to his ministrations, has always been in fact, but now so more than ever.

They come together and make love like it’s the first time, and Noctis thrills as Prompto shivers apart beneath him with a wordless cry.

* * *

Like a hot knife in butter, a medical laser slices through flesh and draws blood into the clear waters of the tank. The cloud of red grows, hovers, and drifts swiftly away as the fluids are cycled through a pump and replaced. Another beam seals the wound, cauterizing until it scars.

UV light irradiates unblemished surfaces, angling at just the right intensity for specific patterns of freckles to show and skin to tan. Bands of heated metal squeeze at flesh and bone, the friction raising calluses while tubes inserted under veins pump nutrients and growth accelerants to build muscle and form.

There are electrodes on the scalp and rapid movements behind closed eyelids, fluttering with activity as the subject dreams a vivid dream, reliving a lifetime of memories compressed into a zip file.

A series of beeps, the draining of fluids, and a naked man takes his first steps on shaky feet.

Next to him, in another tank, a body begins to sink.

* * *

“Are you feeling ill?” Ignis doesn’t hesitate to offer him a handkerchief, freshly laundered and floral scented. It pains Prompto to accept it and dab at his nose, now bleeding again.

“Maybe you should sit this one out,” Gladio says worriedly. “Aranea can handle it by herself, right?”

Prompto laughs. “Guys, I’m fine! I just tripped on the blankets after I woke up and face-planted on the floor. But I’m good to go, and I’ll be back before you know it!”

Ignis huffs in disbelief while Gladio shoves at him playfully, but Noctis is silent. He’s staring at Prompto — it’s all he ever seems to do lately — but doesn’t call him out on the white lie. The dark haired male had found him struggling to rise at the foot of their bed, and it took several hours before Prompto was able to stand on his own again.

Noctis’ gaze is sharp, his blue eyes boring holes into Prompto as though he can find all the answers if he just stares long and hard enough.

Prompto cracks and looks away first.

* * *

The land outside the compound is barren.

Surrounded by lights is a cordoned area with mounds of dirt lined up in neat rows, evenly spaced apart and each about the size of a full-grown man. It’s hard to distinguish between them; only one plot has a stone marker placed at the head with a series of numbers etched onto it.

_05953234_

* * *

Before he even finishes turning the key in the lock, the door swings open to reveal Noctis.

He’s staring again, face blank and lips pinched tight. Prompto looks him in the eye and tries not to fidget. There’s a contemplative silence between them as Noctis scans him up and down like he’s seeing him for the first time, like he’s trying to tell the difference between the man at his doorstep and the one who kissed him goodbye two weeks ago.

Prompto’s clothes are dirtied and his skin is caked in layers of sweat and grime, but he’s standing stronger than before and there’s a healthy pink flush to his cheeks. He takes a step back and jerks his hand away when Noctis reaches for his wristband, and for a heart-stopping moment Prompto has to fight the urge to flee.

_This is Noctis_, he reminds himself. _He won’t hurt us. He loves us, and we love him._

“Prompto? Is that really you?”

_He’s us. We’re him._ “Yeah dude, it’s me.”

“...”

“Noct?”

Noctis sighs, but the edges of his lips curl up. He raises a hand to cup Prompto’s face, tracing a familiar pattern of freckles with his thumb. “Sorry, I’m being stupid. Of course it’s you. You promised to come home to me. You’ll always be with me, right?”

Prompto smiles back and presses a kiss to his palm. “Ever at your side.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know? Clones don’t have very long shelf lives. Good thing a few of Niflheim’s labs survived the end of the world :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
